That was this summer. I had very long relationship and last year i got ridden of it. So I sex occasionally wit various girls till then. One night this September I was very very tired of everything. Job went finally better and some private investing also, but I had being working for 14 hours a day at time. It was About 1 am in the morning and was just went of from long shower and about to lay down on my bad.The voice from the other side of cell phone was very pleasant, some kind of baby talking voice. Voice said" Annnn' what what do want from me now?...LOL.. i said "who is this?&... Continue»
Dalene Harvey, a demure young office worker sits at her computer work station, methodically tapping her keyboard. Her lovely face shows the total concentration with which she composes her text; her soft blue eyes remain rigidly fixed on the monitor. In her mind, however, turmoil! And this is reflected in the roiling prose she rapidly piles up on the hard disk within.
„...the Count's boots echoed down the dank stone passage, rousing Misty from her reflections. She shivered as he approached, his rakishly handsome features afffecting her as they always did, despite the heavy whip he carried in his hand and the hard, cruel glint in his eye. Misty was acutely aware of her helplessness, her wrists held over her head by heavy manacles, her pettycoat a ragged ruin that clung tenuously to her voluptuous body.
The Count paused before her, eyeing her boldly. When his eyes met hers, their gaze locked for a long moment. Involuntarily, her lower lip trembled, and tears rose to cloud her vision. With a tight, knowing smile, the Count stepped forward, his hand rising to caress her cheek. Instinctively, her head moved toward him, her lips parted, yearning to be kissed.
Instead he grasped the top of her petticoat and ripped downward, tearing the entire garment from her in one motion, leaving her naked and trembling before him. Slowly, deliberately, the Count took his position and raised the long black whip. As he drew it back, Misty's back arched in anticipation, her eyes clenched shut, a tear already rolling down her pale cheek...“
Suddenly, with little more than a perfunktory knock, into her office bursts Dalene's fellow worker and close friend, Linda. As the blonde grabs a look at the material onscreen, Dalene fumbles to clear it away.
„Just working on some reports,“ she mumbles.
As Linda begins to explain that she won't be able to go out on the town with her that evening, Dalene's phone rings.
„Do you know who that was?“ the girl asks after a brief conversation.
„Are you serious?“ Linda gasps. „Ms. Top-Floor, Chairman-of-the-Board, Never Sees Anyone, Alexander?! What could she want to see you about? How does she even know you exist?“
„I have no idea?“ the other girl shrugs, hurriedly fixing her hair and jacket. „It's kind of scary. How do I look?“
„Fabulous,“ smiled Linda, and then Dalene is headed for the elevators.
Once into the executive suite, she finds herself staring at the imposing presence of Marion Alexander. Quickly the woman get to the point. It seems she was conducting one of her routine scans of the employees' computer production, and she came across some very suspicious material coming from Dalene's work station.
„What do you suppose I found, Dalene?“ she asks sarcastically. „Or maybe you'd prefer...Misty?“
„Sometimes I have a little time between work orders.“ the red-faced girl stammers. „I practice my word processing. I didn't mean any harm, really. I just make up stuff.“
„Just what is it you're writing?“
„It's a – I guess it's a sort of romance novel.“
Marion proceeds to read: „`...Misty sobbed uncontrollably as the whip lashed against her upthrust bottom again and again. Yet, somehow, the more the Count punished her quivering flesh, the more she wanted him. Her arousal blazed with her, consuming all other emotions. Her hips ground wontonly, shamelessly in the air, thrusting against the impact of the whip...´ Does that sound like a romance novel to you?“
As Dalene flushes crimson and stares at the floor, Marion swings around from behind her desk and confronts the girl.
„You're a very lovely girl,“ she begins. „You could be the heroine of your story. You'd make a lovely Misty.“
„Please,“ Dalene begs, „You're making me very uncomfortable.“
„Have you ever been whipped, Dalene?“
As the blonde stares wide-eyed, her boss proceeds to call in her secretary.
„This is Dory,“ Marion says, „my personal secretary and full-time slave. She obeys my every command. Watch.“
Then, in a remarkable performance, Marion Alexander demonstrates to Dalene the very things she was writing about, her deepest innermost fantasies coming true on the body of the secretary.
She tosses a riding crop and orders Dory to scramble on all fours to retrieve it. Then she has the secretary remove her skirt and panties for a battering on her bare buns with the same riding whip. When the demonstration is over, Dalene is hot with passion. Inevitably then, when marion dismissed Dory and demands she disrobe, Dalene is complaisant as a puppy.
A session of discipline follows, one in which the pretty blonde is obliged to undress. The older woman fondles her breasts, lashes them with the riding crop, hoists her skirt and bombards the jiggling backside. At last, Marion Alexander allows Dalene Harvey to dress.
And before she sends her from the office, the executive extracts her agreement to appear at 8 o'clock sharp that evening at a certain address. It is not required, merely desired – very much desired by the excited office girl.